


I’m Not Going To Be Able To Stop Myself

by Ghiacciolite



Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: Cowgirl Position, F/M, Masturbation, Romance, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghiacciolite/pseuds/Ghiacciolite
Summary: Vincent is trying to work, but you're bored and doing your best to distract him.
Relationships: Vincent Sinclair/You
Kudos: 37





	I’m Not Going To Be Able To Stop Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt dialogue: “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

For the past several hours, Vincent had been hard at work. This sculpture was very abstract, with only the faintest hint of a human form beneath it. Though he was making it at your request, wanting to see something more in line with his smaller creations but on a much grander scale, you were basically ignored as he worked.

Sure, you got it, the muse of an artist is a fickle one, and Vincent needed to work while the spark was there. But it had been _hours_ with not even so much as a glance in your direction. You rolled around on his bed, counted the in-progress pieces he had lying around, and as much as you loved to watch him work, you were starting to get bored.

Your mind began to wander, but it didn’t stray far from the man in front of you. You had never seen him without either a thick sweater or his mask, but the thought of what he looked like under them kept you up at night, sweaty and needy.

You had never told him, but surely Vincent had an idea of your feelings towards him. After all, you chose to spend all your time with him, not Lester, not Bo, but Vincent. You wanted to grab him by his shoulders and just tell him that he could have the most Lovecraftian horrors hidden under his mask and it still wouldn’t change how you felt about him, the universe held nothing that could frighten you away from him. But instead, you stayed silent, waiting for him to make the first move.

You had made that decision months ago, and with no sign of Vincent’s attitude towards you changing, you were just about fed up. Looking over at him again, he seemed to be working on something that looked like gills on the sculpture, you got an idea that made the corners of your lips curl up.

Vincent almost jumped at the noise. Was that a moan? Surely he must have been imagining things. He silently scolded himself for thinking for an instant that you would have made such a noise while he was working.

Then he heard it again, this time louder and more drawn out. His grip on his tools tightened, his jaw clenched as he tried to block the sounds out. Vincent wasn’t sure what exactly you were doing, but you had asked him to make something more avant-garde for you, and he wasn’t going to be so easily distracted from the task.

Your grin only got bigger when you saw Vincent stiffen up. He was clearly doing his best to ignore you, so you would just have to do your best to make him notice you.

Certain he wasn’t going to look at you, you decided to kick things up a notch. You wiggled your hand underneath the waistband of your pants, glad you had decided to forgo underwear that day. Your fingers slipped further down until they reached their destination.

The first touch sent shivers down your spine, causing your hips to buck in the air and a gasp to spill from your lips. You continued, spurred on by the slight pause in Vincent’s work. You were getting to him.

Emboldened, you pressed onward, your other hand joining the first. They worked as a team, bringing forth more new and exciting sounds from you. You didn’t even hear the slight clink as Vincent sat down his tools, nor the way he quickly stomped over towards you.

You only noticed when his hand closed around your wrist, putting a stop to your movements. Until that moment, you had never heard Vincent say even one word before. But the voice you heard, raspy and low from disuse, was unmistakably his own.

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

More than ever, you wished he didn’t wear that mask, if only so you could see the look on his face when you said, “Then don’t.” But the effect it had on him was seen clearly enough.

His hands were on you in an instant, deftly working you out of your clothes and dropping them in a pile. He paused, staring at your body, committing it to memory. He would undoubtedly be drawing you later.

Just as much as he was on you, your hands were on him as well, pushing his warm sweater up his torso, giving you the first peek of skin. Vincent’s eye widened, and he turned away from you, removing his mask to make shedding his clothes easier. Once he was completely uncovered, he placed the mask back on his face and turned to face you again. It seemed strange to you that he was more willing to let you see his growing erection than he was his own face, and it made your heart ache.

“You know, you don’t need to wear that mask around me. I lo-” You were silenced with a finger to your lips. You may have thought now that you would want to see him maskless, but Vincent knew better, he was certain you would be just as revolted and horrified as everyone else. He didn’t want to ruin the moment dwelling on it.

Instead, he climbed up on the bed with you, flipping you over on top of him. His fingers, soft from the years of working with wax every day, pressed into your hips, grinding you down against him. You rocked your hips, enjoying the feeling of him rubbing against you.

It was becoming too much, you couldn’t wait any longer. You had spent ages thinking about being with Vincent, and now was the time to act. You placed a hand on his surprisingly soft chest and steadied yourself as you raised your body. Your other hand went between your legs, maneuvering his cock until it was in the perfect location to just slide inside you.

The wax almost muffled the long groan that emitted from the man below you. Though he would rather die than admit it, Vincent had spent just as long, if not longer, thinking about having you on top of him. He never would have imagined it would actually happen.

His hands remained on your hips, his thumbs massaging circles into the sides with the skilled touch of an artist, occasionally assisting you by lifting you up and bringing you back down, nestling his cock deeper inside you with every movement. He wanted to grab you, pull your body completely against his own and gaze in your eyes, he had always been a romantic at heart. But the view he had looking up at you was just as nice.

“V-Vincent…” His name tumbled past your lips, almost breathlessly. You had so much you wanted to say to him, but it was getting harder to think. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer, and cursed yourself for bringing yourself so close to the edge before with your hands. 

Your movements became erratic, your pace quickened as you began to lose control. Vincent took over, guiding your hips as you tried to stay upright. One of his hands drifted lower, his thumb brushing against your clit, and as much as you wanted to hold back, you came, clenching around him and collapsing on top of him exhausted.

Vincent didn’t last much longer, fucking up into you for only a few thrusts after your climax, before he reached his own. He lifted you off of him slowly, watching himself slide out of you. He would most certainly be drawing this memory later.

While your breathing began to regulate itself again and your heart rate slowed to its normal amount, Vincent pulled you up into a deep embrace. His hand slid over your eyes, blocking out your view. Seconds later, you felt his lips softly press against your own, for only just a moment. Then, it was over, his mask back on. You smiled, and let sleep overtake you.


End file.
